


Delicious

by Lacertae



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Condoms, Dress Up, Hand Jobs, Kinktober, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 11:01:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21098390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacertae/pseuds/Lacertae
Summary: *Genji/Zenyatta* Written for Kinktober 2019, day 19 - dress up





	Delicious

**Author's Note:**

> prompt and ship offered by Asynfulsoul! :D

**Delicious**

When Zenyatta receives an invite to a gala by one of his old friends, a man who has donated more than once to the Shambali over the years, he first considers not going.

It isn’t that he dislikes galas, for he does not –they might be boring for most people, but Zenyatta enjoys indulging in what he calls people-watching, and he always seems to find people he clicks with over the course of the night, which makes time pass by even faster.

And of course, it is a perfect time to be introduced to more potential supporters.

This time, though, Zenyatta is not invited as a Shambali, but as himself, a courtesy that feels almost too much for him. There is a certain status that one has to keep during such situations, in attire and attitude both, and though Zenyatta has learned how to act, how to speak, how to move, he certainly does not have the right kind of clothes.

It is Genji who offers, then –there is something awkward in the way he stumbles, embarrassed but heartfelt, untouched money from years in Overwatch, and the confession that he wishes to give Zenyatta everything, even when all Zenyatta wants is his heart.

At such sweet words, Zenyatta cannot refuse, core warm with love, aching at the way Genji cares, and how pleased he seems, to buy things for him.

The dress is expensive, and beautiful, and Zenyatta hesitates as he touches the fabric, taken by the pattern –midnight blue, with silver curls and swirls on his front, and tight, embracing his curves and shape so well it makes Zenyatta feel new again.

Perhaps Genji had expected him to wear something else –a suit, perhaps, to match the one Genji wears as Zenyatta leaves the bedroom to meet with him in the corridor, but the way his eyes grow wide, and he swallows thickly as he watches him, eyes roaming up and down Zenyatta’s figure, is a treat in itself.

“Z-Zenyatta?”

“You seem surprised.” There is amusement and a faint note of teasing in Zenyatta’s voice, but he twirls around, showing Genji every inch of himself.

Genji makes a soft, strangled sound. “I– I thought you would…” he makes an aborted motion, pointing at himself, then at Zenyatta, and his own suit is tight enough that Zenyatta’s optical receptors see the tent in his pants.

“I wished to look my best, especially for you,” Zenyatta murmurs, and again Genji swallows.

He’s rooted on the spot, frozen, mouth slightly parted, and the flush that takes over his cheeks is as endearing as it is appeasing.

“You look… ah… you look… breathtaking,” Genji breathes out, and truly, he sounds like he has no air left to speak.

“Thank you, Genji. You look really… dashing yourself.” Zenyatta cannot help himself, brushes one hand down Genji’s torso and watches as he shivers. “Though you seem to like my dress a little more than I do yours.”

And then, his hand moves further down, fingers brushing against the edge of the prominent bulge, and Genji hisses, eyes fluttering close, hips leaning into the contact.

“Zenyatta–” there is a whine to Genji’s voice, and Zenyatta laughs, watching as Genji’s cock, trapped so tightly in his pants, twitches at the sound.

“My, my. I do not think we should leave with you in such condition, my dear… but alas–” he removes his hand and pats himself down, “it would take too long to redress, do you not agree? And… this dress is so tight… it would not do for us to get it dirty.”

Genji makes another strangled sound, and hides his face in one hand.

“What do you want to do, Genji? We only have a little bit, before having to leave for the party.” Zenyatta’s hand returns to the bulge, one finger stroking it lightly, delighted when Genji shudders and breaths heavily out of his mouth.

“I want–”

“Perhaps,” he continues, forehead array glowing, “you should use the bathroom–”

“_Zenyatta–_”

“… but then, you would not be satisfied, would you?” he purrs, interrupting him again, and then he slides closer, pushing their bodies together.

He feels Genji buck into him, his hard cock nudging between Zenyatta’s legs, but their clothes are in the way, tight and compressing, and Genji shudders, moaning, as he buries his face in Zenyatta’s neck.

“We really can’t afford to dirty our clothes, Genji,” he murmurs, little jolts of omnic energy flicking on his mouth piece, kissing the skin of Genji’s cheeks, then lower, on his neck, and Genji’s hands slide down Zenyatta’s hips, fumbling as they caress the smooth fabric of his dress.

“I…”

“Turn around, Genji.”

Genji presses a flurry of kisses on Zenyatta’s exposed neck, lips and tongue sending shudders down Zenyatta’s back as they touch his sensors, then he obeys, and Zenyatta pushes him against the wall, until Genji presses both hands at the sides of his head, splayed out.

Zenyatta grinds into him, and slides one hand to the front of Genji’s suit, fingers caressing his erection, teasing it above his pants, feels Genji shudder and push into his touch, moaning openly.

The corridor is empty, and most of the overwatch agents are at dinner, but there is a small jolt of anticipation at the thought that Genji is so far gone he doesn’t realise they could be seen, and caught, the door of their shared room right next to them as they fool so openly.

He cannot undress, nor can he remove his modesty panel, because he’s already slick and wet inside, valve aching in response to Genji’s soft sounds and the way that suit caresses Genji’s muscles and his thick thighs, and it is a delicious torture for him.

Slowly, Zenyatta uses his other hand to dig into Genji’s pocket, and finds exactly what he was hoping for –Genji never comes unprepared.

“Hmmm… did you wish to use this at the gala, my dear?” he wriggles the wrapper of the condom near Genji’s head, and watches as his flush spreads down to his neck.

“I… I didn’t think you’d wear…” Genji shrugs, self-conscious but not sorry, not really. “I thought I would tug down your pants and have you in some empty room, or outside, I don’t know, I thought it’d be fun.”

“Oh, Genji,” Zenyatta pats his chin, and neatly rips the wrapper. The condom is soft and slippery in his hand, and it’s even _ribbed_. “I have ruined your fantasy now, what shall I do?”

Genji’s shoulders shake in silent laughter, but when Zenyatta pushes against his ass, he pushes back, moaning a little. “This is better. You are… gods, Zenyatta, you are so hot like that, I wish we did not have to go, so I could…” he sighs, and swallows, and Zenyatta rubs his palm against his cock. He’s so hard it must be painful.

“Maybe I could let you take this dress off of me…” Zenyatta pauses, watches the way Genji freezes, hopeful, and the way his cock twitches under his palm, then he continues “… after the gala.”

“Zenyatta…” it comes out as a whine, but Genji moans when Zenyatta kneads his cock slowly, rubs it over his pants, and he follows the touch with his hips, wanting more of that friction. “Please…”

“Later, my dear. You will be so good to me, will you not?” Zenyatta pushes his groin against Genji’s plush, firm ass. He’s aching, and he can’t relieve himself, not with his dress so long and so tight around his hips and thighs, and Genji being so hot and pliant against the wall doesn’t make this any easier. “You will take good care of me, just like I’m doing now for you.”

“Zenyatta… ah–”

Zenyatta’s hand slides up, leaving Genji’s aching cock to unbutton his pants and tug them down. His cock is hard and hot, and Zenyatta’s mind goes hazy at the thought of Genji waiting for them to be at the party before whisking him away somewhere private, grinding into him long enough to get Zenyatta all wet and ready before fucking him against the wall, and for a moment, he regrets wearing this dress–

But only for a moment.

Genji bucks into his hand, cursing under his breath, and Zenyatta hungers for him, for the _now_.

“You are desperate already, Genji? Just from seeing me in this dress?”

“How can I not be? I… fuck, Zenyatta… you’re so hot and that dress… and your hips, and… and…” Genji presses his head against the wall in front of him, breathing harshly as Zenyatta’s hand caresses the base of his cock, fingers warm and metal sliding so easily on his feverish skin.

Zenyatta slides the condom over Genji’s cock slowly, teasing as he strokes down its length, thumb rubbing at a spot right under the head that makes Genji buck, cursing loudly enough Zenyatta’s auricular receptors _ring_.

His hand strokes down his cock, slowly, and he asks, “what do you want to do to me, Genji?”

“I want to… I want to rub a thigh against you until your modesty panel slides off, and I want to tease you until you whine, until you beg for me, and then I want to lick you from over your dress, tease you more, until you leak and drench that pretty fabric, and I want to see you take it off, and then I want to fuck you on my tongue until I can’t breathe and you come all over my face, and–”

Genji is babbling, but Zenyatta can barely hear him, his valve burning, feeling empty.

He can almost feel the ghost sensation of Genji’s tongue prodding at his folds, and he clenches on nothing, grinding into Genji’s ass, desperate for friction he won’t get.

His hand speeds up, stroking Genji’s cock, and he follows the movement, grunting and fucking into his hand with abandon, hands still pressed into the wall, head thrown back.

Zenyatta can see a glimpse of his red face, of his open lips parted to pant and moan, and a whine leaves his synth, static making his voice glitch.

He leans over against his back, pushing Genji further against the wall, and Genji gasps and his cock twitches in Zenyatta’s hand, slippery because of the lubed condom, and Genji ruts into his hand, cursing and grunting.

His words are gone, all he can utter now are moans and Zenyatta’s name like a prayer, and it does nothing to soothe the fire inside his circuits as he clings to him, wishing for nothing more than to bring Genji to completion.

Zenyatta’s other hand slips between them, cupping Genji’s ass, kneading it, and he sends little sparks of omnic energy against Genji’s back, kissing it as he presses his faceplate into it, his moans muffled by the fabric of his suit.

“Genji,” Zenyatta whispers in his ear, voice dry, “will you come for me?”

And Genji comes, his hips stuttering, a drawn out moan coming from his throat, and Zenyatta milks his orgasm until Genji’s shoulders shake and his hands give in, and he presses his head hard into the wall when Zenyatta pushes him further, squeezing him into it, his hips moving on their own, seeking a friction he cannot get.

With a shaky grip, Zenyatta tugs the condom away, tying it with only one hand and then dropping it on the ground.

His processes are hazy, the heat making it hard to focus, but when Genji twists around and holds him against his chest, he shivers, and when Genji’s hand slides down his front, caressing his sensors over his dress, rubs into his modesty panel and leans forwards to kiss him, slow and languid and deep, he gently pushes away.

“Zenyatta, please, let me–”

“Later, my dear,” Zenyatta wishes his voice could be steadier, even as he watches his flushed face in the afterglow. “Do you wish to ruin the dress you bought me?”

His words send a shudder down Genji’s back, even as he unsteadily tucks his spent cock back into his pants. “Do not tempt me, Zenyatta.”

“Later,” he murmurs again, and the promise and desire in his voice are thick and heady. “I will tempt you, and you will fall.”

Genji’s head falls in the crook of his neck, and chuckles weakly, pressing languid kisses on his pistons.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “But only because I did not get to do anything to you when you look so good I could eat you.”

“Later,” Zenyatta promises, for the third time, and Genji snorts. “Besides, you were quite a view. Your suit makes me wish I picked a similar attire for tonight, for you are…” Zenyatta tilts his head up, caressing Genji’s cheek, “… delectable.”

Genji groans. “If you continue, I will be back to where we started, Zenyatta. Are you sure you wish to go to the gala?”

Zenyatta’s forehead array flashes in a cheeky grin, and he tilts his head to the side. “I do. Part of the fun will be watching you, knowing you’re counting the minutes until you can have me.”

And as Genji blinks, his mouth falling open, Zenyatta straightens his back and turns around, swaying his hips a bit as he picks up the used condom and opens the door of the bedroom to throw it into the bin.

He takes particular pleasure of the way Genji’s breath stutters, eyes following his every move, even if he has to will the heat away.

As he told Genji, they will have more fun… _later_.


End file.
